


Joey X Henry

by hollyrosecheeks



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: M/M, Secret Santa, batim henry - Freeform, batim joey - Freeform, bendy and the ink machine - Freeform, sorry for the late present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:33:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21991492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyrosecheeks/pseuds/hollyrosecheeks
Summary: merry X-Mas!! sorry for this being late, but i hope you enjoy this lil story me and my friend whipped up together
Relationships: Joey Drew/Henry Stein
Kudos: 21





	Joey X Henry

Henry was now well beyond his breaking point. Through a repeated list of torments caused by Joey Drew and his crew, he was just a step from resignation, and even closer to snapping someone’s head off. He didn't want to do this anymore. He worked on a key frame for the newest episode, not too eager to talk to anybody. He just wanted to get his work done and leave so he could sleep, even if for only a few hours.  
However, his mood significantly dropped when Joey came into the art department to check up on everything. Henry was the final person he spoke to.  
“Hey Henry! What are you working on?” This calm exterior was his mask often worn before he started yelling about how everything needed to be perfect or some garbage along those lines.  
“It's goin’ great Mister Drew,” he muttered. He switched to the next page to start animating.  
“You know, you can take your time…”  
Henry turned his head to look at Joey. “And when's the deadline, Drew? Because last time I checked, I still had time to draft and then finalise.” His voice brought on a mocking tone  
Joey had to keep his patience. “Not for a couple days.”  
“So I'm ahead of schedule, thank you for the reminder.” Henry knew what Joey would pull; Henry would take his time, dusk would roll around, he'd request to leave, and Joey would set the deadline sooner. That's how he worked.  
“There's no need to get snippy, Henry,” Joey warned; “I'm just suggesting you make sure it looks good.” He was now frowning.  
“Joey, I'm just going to get this done. I’m almost done with sketches, and after that I can do the final drawings tomorrow.”  
“And ignore me like always?” Now he started pushing. Henry stood up.  
“I'm not doing this tonight, Joey.” He shoved Joey's shoulder as he moved past, and this is what pushed Joey over the edge. He grabbed Henry's collar and tugged him back, efficiently choking him in the process.  
“Neither am I, Henry! Now, don't walk away from me.”  
“Get your goddamn hands off me, Drew. I'm done. No more late-nights, two hour when-you're-not-looking naps.”  
“Henry, listen to yourself!”  
Henry grabbed his bag of art supplies off of the floor. “No. I am listening to myself, and I'm the only reasonable one in this conversation.” He began walking away, and even at the sight of Joey's hand, he swatted.  
He couldn't see the heartbreak in Joey's eyes, the fact that Joey knew what he'd done, that his heated temper was a mistake. All he saw anymore was a tormenting demon; he saw no friend or anything else. He didn't stick around to see his misty-eyed friend go back to his office and not come out. As far as everyone was concerned, when they were done, they could leave. Just not like Henry.

It was but two hours until Joey hid himself in a buzzing bar a few blocks down from the studio. He was working down his fifth glass of loneliness--actually, it was wine. Grape wine for a prestigious yet hated man. His mind wandered; what were the terms for that? Infamous, notorious? Those were the common ones. They also described him perfectly.  
He found himself staring out into the crowd, seemingly for no reason. His eyes focused slightly; there was a young man just barely in his sight, but all he saw was dark brown hair bobbing above other patrons’ heads. His eyes refocused; young that the man was, he had about three streaks of silver on his head. Stress makes you age twenty years. Joey believed it; just barely pushing thirty-five, his hair now only had streaks of brown. His eyes absently traced the young man's path through the crowd and toward the bar, then saw the face emerge from the wave of people; Henry. His mind didn't register it at first; he works at the studio. He quit. It was after a minute that his eyes widened; Henry, his best friend, had quit because he hated Joey. Because Joey was an idiot.  
Right as Henry found his face against the others at the bar, Joey stood up to leave. Absolutely drunken beyond belief, he stumbled, bumped into people, muttered apologies, and was almost shoved back to the floor by vengeful victims of his drunkenness.  
A hand grabbed Joey by the elbow and started dragging him towards the exit. He tried to break off, though in vain. He looked forward and saw the same silver-streaked hair he saw in the crowd.  
“Henry?”  
His voice was lost to the sea of noise in the club. He didn't even realise they were outside until the door closed and the sound stopped all at once. Footsteps were the only noise. He was about to try and address Henry again, but before he could open his mouth he was pushed against the wall outside the front door.  
“Really? I'm heated and go for one night and you immediately go to a club and drink yourself to sleep. Indecent for a studio owner.”  
Joey didn't even have the coherent ability to think up a comeback. All he could really think about was Henry's hands on his shoulders, their chests nearly flush together.  
“No snarky comments, huh?” He clicked his tongue. “You must be absolutely out of it. You're coming home with me to sober up,” he grumbled softly. He began to look around for the drunk man’s car, but Joey paid no mind to the placement of his own two feet; he looked Henry up and down, his dark chocolate hair, his pale blue eyes, his fit body. Joey felt his face heat up more, so he quickly faced away from Henry and twiddled his thumbs.  
Henry vaguely noticed the action and kept it in the back of his mind for later. He grabbed Joey’s keys, unlocked his car, put Joey in the front passenger seat, then drove in the general direction of his own home. He had less experience driving since he walked to the studio more often than not, but he also wasn’t sure if Joey was going to pass out. When they arrived at his house, he got out, then helped Joey to his feet. He replaced his cold disappointment with a warm smile, then fiddled with his keys until he got the right one. Henry unlocked and opened the door and, once inside, immediately invited Joey to the couch. Still with little coherence, Joey muttered a little “Mhmmm,” and staggered over.  
Joey having almost fallen, Henry ended up dragging him by the armpits. Joey let out a groan as Henry drug him toward the couch, but because he continuously rolled off purely out of drunken defiance, he would need a legitimate bed. Henry took the extra effort to drag the thrashing drunk to the guest bedroom. Once there, Henry used all his strength to pick up the short but apparently plump man and try to put him to bed. A long moment later, he did finally heave Joey up.  
“Wow, you really couldn’t have worked with me on that?” He only received an exhausted groan in response. Joey edged toward the side of the bed, and Henry quickly pushed him back. “Really? I have to keep you in bed too? How much did you drink..?” Henry muttered complaints as he lay down behind Joey and wrapped his arms around him. Joey did turn red and, in probably his boldest action of the night, he rolled over so he was face to face with Henry. Begrudgingly, Henry muttered a soft, “Good night,” to Joey.  
Henry let go and rolled over, expecting to be ready if Joey were to try and run off or something. Joey took a deep breath and thought, “This is now or never.” He rolled to face Henry.  
"Hey Heeenry, I wanted to tell you something…"  
Henry took a peek over his shoulder. “What is it?” he grumbled. He couldn’t see how red Joey was in the dark, both from alcohol and emotion..  
“First things first, I-I’m sorry I was overworking you. Unbelievably, there’s kind of a reason, but you can’t get upset, just let me tell you.” His voice was slurring terribly.  
Henry sat up and faced Joey. “I’m all ears. It better be pretty damn good or you’re getting kicked out.”  
“It is, it uh… I was lonely.”  
Henry’s face invisibly contorted into something of anger, then relaxed. Slightly. “That’s the only reason?”  
“Well, I mean, it was good to get extra work done too…”  
“That’s not all you’ve got. Keep talking or go to sleep.”  
“Okay. Well, I was lonely, but it was because I liked spending time with you. I liked seeing you work, your art, how you did it… But you. You really are something else to me, Henry.” He hiccuped  
Henry stared into the dark.  
“Henry?”  
“Still here. Just thinking.”  
“Alright. Sorry.”  
They sat in silence and Joey began to think this was a mistake. He had shot his shot at the worst time. “I should, uh, I should get going.” The sheets and mattress rustled, but Henry crawled across the bed and frantically grabbed Joey’s arm.  
“Wait.”  
Joey turned around to face Henry. “Yeah?” He was yanked back onto the bed and pulled into warm arms. Reddened once more, Joey crossed his arms over Henry’s.  
“After you’re sober and if you are truthful, we can try it out. We will show absolutely none of it at work. Now come here. You need to sleep this off. And tomorrow, we’re taking a sick day and some time to think and breathe, like it or not.” Henry lay the both of them sideways on the bed, pulling Joey close to his chest. “Don’t wake up too early. I’m not the only one who’s been overworking himself.”  
“Good night for real this time, Henry.”  
“Good night, and I love you.”


End file.
